


at the ballet

by kerrykins



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 04:49:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kerrykins/pseuds/kerrykins
Summary: A quick writing warm-up!Miranda, Andy, and Emily are all ballerinas auditioning for a position at La Scala.





	at the ballet

There was the pleasant hum of violins being tuned, accompanied by a few chords of the piano. The faint brassy sound of a horn resonated in the opera hall, reverberating off the walls and gleaming floors. 

 

Andy ambled up the stairs the stage, craning her neck and spinning around wildly so she could take it all in. The elegance, the resilience, the vastness of it stunned her. It was a building that had stood the tests of time, proud and impassive to the world outside. She was on a stage that countless legendary ballerinas had glided across, Margot Fonteyn, Enrico Cecchetti, Anna Pavlova. The La Scala.

 

“I really need this job,” the redhead next to her sighed despondently, her voice with the polish of a Brit. 

 

“Not as much as I do, believe me.” A cool, low voice interjected. Andy and her friend turned around to see an older woman standing there, arms crossed. 

 

Her shining silver hair was short, so there was no need for her to tie her hair up like they had. The lines in her face gave away her age, but her features made her look fearsome. Hard blue eyes bore into the brunette, cheekbones curved sharply, and she wrinkled her graceful nose in disdain. She had the air of a woman that would never get winded, despite how many pirouettes she did.

 

Wearing nothing else but a black leotard, it was evident that she was in excellent shape, with a well-toned back and legs.

 

“Hello, I’m Miranda, what’s your name?” She peered at the redhead with detached interest, completely ignoring Andy. The brunette just gaped at her.

 

“I’m Emily, and this is Andrea.” The young woman replied, gesturing to herself and then Andy. “Hello, Andrea,” Miranda greeted her begrudgingly.

 

“Hi,” Andy said with a sweet smile. The older ballerina only quirked her lips in response. 

 

“Gosh, there’s a lot of people here,” the brunette commented nervously, glancing behind them, where a small crowd of other dancers was forming. “Mm, it’s a cattle call.” Miranda said absently, gazing into the stands above them.

 

“But you’ll get the job for sure, Andy,” Emily reassured her with a grin, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’re so pretty.”

 

Andy’s face flushed at the compliment, then laughed lightly. “Oh believe me, looks are overrated. Just a different set of problems.”

 

“Okay, ladies, line up,” a bored voice called from the stands, and all the dancers murmured and shifted into place.  “We’ll start with you. You, number 24.”

 

“My name is Miranda,” Miranda snapped icily. “What do you want to know?”

 

“Why don’t you tell me why you’re in this business?”

 

“I want to be a ballet dancer, why else?” The older woman rolled her eyes. “The light, by the way, is a very funny colour. Do you have anything softer?”

 

“No, no. Don’t worry about the lights.”

 

“It’s very harsh.”

 

“So tell me, do you always come on like this?” The man’s voice was exasperated.

 

“No, sometimes I’m aggressive,” she said flatly, and both Andy and Emily giggled at this.

 

“Just bring it down.”

 

“Bring what down?” Miranda inquired innocuously.

 

“Your attitude, ma’am.”

 

“It’s Miranda,” the older woman called out, annoyance written all over her face.

 

“Oh-kay, Meer-and-ah.” The casting director sounded unamused, enunciating her name out sarcastically. “Why don’t you tell me about your parents?” Andy frowned. Was this an interview or an audition?

 

“Well,” Miranda sniffed. “My mother was a ballerina until my father made her quit.”

 

The director leaned forward, looking intrigued. “Really? Tell me more.”

 

Miranda arched an eyebrow. “Tell you more?”

 

He nodded hesitantly. “Mhm.”

 

The older woman had a faraway look on her face as she began to speak, her sharp eyes glassing over. 

 

“My father always thought that he married beneath him, at least that’s what he kept telling us.” Her voice was quiet, but by no means soft. It was authoritative and cut through the air like a knife. Everyone had fallen silent, watching her in rapt attention. It had nothing to do with the spotlights shining on her, but her commanding presence and clipped diction.

 

“When he proposed, he informed my mother that he was probably her very last chance.” Her lip curled contemptously. “Though she was twenty-two-- only twenty two, she married him.” 

 

She shut her eyes for a moment, as if she trying to compose herself. “It was never easy, living with him. He had a foul temper, a large ego, and a penchant for drinking. My father would often arrive home late at night, bursting through the door and wreaking havoc on our living room.” Andy’s eyes widened in shock at this tidbit of information. It explained the edge Miranda had to her demeanor, cautious and watchful.

 

“Once when I was five, I remember my mother found a pair of earrings in his car. They didn’t belong to her. This distressed me greatly, but she had begged me to never speak of it again. For others, home was a place of comfort. But for my mother and I, it was a prison.” Her face suddenly softened.

 

“But everything was beautiful at the ballet. Graceful men lifted lovely girls in white, and they’d bow at the end, the crowd erupting in applause. It made me realise there was so much more to life than what went on in the confines of my home.” 

 

Her intent blue eyes gleamed appealingly. “And that was when I started class,” she said with a wry smile. “Everyday after school, a dozen girls and I would race up a flight of impossibly tall stairs. It wasn’t paradise, I wouldn’t call it that.” She paused, her icy gaze sweeping over the entire hall before she added, “But it was home.”


End file.
